


Candyland

by casstayinmyass



Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BFF Django, But Also Incredibly Protective, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, F/M, Flirting, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, King Is A Hopeless Romantic, King Is A Sweetheart, Light Bondage, Neck Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Sexual Content, Slavery, Sweet/Hot, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: After Dr. King Schultz rescues you from a hostile client at the brothel you work at, you follow him and Django on their journey, both of you having fallen hard for each other. This eventually brings you to Candyland, where you must pose as King's daughter. Calvin takes a liking to you, and King doesn't like it.





	Candyland

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind, this does include Candie's interpretation of what he eventually thinks to be (but is not) an incestuous relationship (for only a second but) if that's a trigger for you, don't read.

_"Please! Please, no--"_

_Another strike across your face as hard hands grab your arm._

_"You shut your whore mouth, hear me?" the man growls in your ear. You whimper, struggling against him._

_"Pardon me, but what do you think you're doing to her?" a soft voice with a German lilt asks from behind you, and you and the man you're struggling with turn. It's an older, distinguished man, with handsome features and a twinkle in his eye. You find yourself staring at he continues. "I'm only asking because it does not look to me as if you paid quite enough to be handling her like that."_

_"Like what?!"_

_"Like..." the man gestures, "That."_

_"What do you know about it?" the guy spits, "She's a god damn whore."_

_"I just so happen to be in need of a whore," the man returns, "and this one is lovely indeed." You blow hair out of your eye. Great. Another showdown over you. God, you should just pack your bags and quit._

_"This one's taken," the guy snaps, "You blind?"_

_"I am not, in fact," the man admits, a small smirk on his lips at the guy's stupidity. The brothel owner comes over, looking exasperated._

_"We gonna have a problem here, fellers?" The enigmatic man at the door zeroes in on the owner with his gaze, but quickly directs it back to you._

_"You work for this man?"_

_You nod, and the owner frowns. "The hell you askin' her for?"_

_"I will direct my line of questioning to you then, sir. Are you Racer Buck Willems?"_

_"That's me," the owner spits into a tin._

_"Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am Doctor King Schultz and as I said, I am in need of a whore. You provide this service, do you not?"_

_"I sure as shit do, look around!" Buck mutters, and King smiles, eyes narrowing a little as he thinks something over._

_"I like this one right here."_

_"Now... now look-- any price he pays, I can damn well double!" the guy holding you growls, and you struggle as he tightens his painful grip._

_"1,000."_

_You, the rough guy, and Buck all turn to the handsome older man, mouths slightly ajar._

_"You want to pay for what for me?" you murmur, believing you heard him wrong._

_"1000, my dear. I have it in cash if Mr. Willems would allow me to produce my pocketbook."_

_The guy just angrily lets you go, and you blink as you follow into King's open arms. King gets out his book, and hands a wad of bills to Buck._

_"You better treat him good, you hear me?" Buck mutters to you, still in awe._

_The man slowly looks over to you, and whispers in your ear: "Are you happy here, my love?" You scoff._

_"What do you think?"_

_He nods once, then turns simply to the brothel owner. "She quits."_

_You two turn to walk out before the brothel owner throws a fit, but a gun cocks behind the man's head. You twitch, thinking of turning around and grabbing the gun from your old boss, but King just pats a reassuring hand over your arm with a small smile._

_"Do you really want to do this in your place of business sir?" he asks, "I was under the impression you would follow me out onto the street where we could do this, but..." You frown at how cocky he is._

_"Like ya said. It's my place'a business. I get to kill whoever I want in here... guess that means you, hotshot."_

_King sighs. "Oh, very well. Have it your way." Faster than a blur, he whips out his pistol and shoots the brothel owner clean in the forehead, watching him fall over. He holds out his arm to you, and you take it, both of you walking out. He begins to polish his gun. "Whore... I hate that word. I'm so sorry for my derogatory speech earlier-- I had to speak his language in order to outsmart him, you see."_

_"Certainly wouldn't take a scholar to outsmart that one," you huff, and the man smiles at you curiously._

_"What's your name, lovely girl?"_

_"(y/n) (y/l/n)."_

_"Miss (y/l/n)." He takes off his hat. "I believe you already know my name." You shake his hand, and linger over the few extra seconds he keeps your hand in his. Maybe this particular job wouldn't be so bad..._

_"I also apologize for the confusion," he says as he grimaces and puts his hat back on, "The man you used to work for, Racer Buck Willems, was in fact a wanted man with $300 on his head."_

_"Not surprising," you mutter._

_"Also, I do not intend to use your services." You ignore the dull throb of disappointment at that._

_"Then why'd you pay for my services?" you ask, "That much. I gather you're a bounty hunter, that much's clear... but why didn't you just come in and start shooting?" He purses his lips._

_"That is not entirely my style, dear (y/n). Further, I'm an impulsive man I'm afraid, when it comes to cruelty. If I can help out in some little way, I will."_

_You smile a little. "You must hate how they treat slaves." He turns, and beckons his friend over. A man with dark skin and a hat dismounts, and you smile even more. "Hm. Nice to meet you too."_

_"Yeah. You riding with us?" Django asks, and King hums._

_"It would appear that way."_

_So, you three rode off through the town toward the Marshall's office to collect the head money, as the sheriff came running to the brothel to clean up the mess._

It hadn't even been a month since you and King had openly admitted your feelings for one another. It had taken the better part of a year, since King had happened into that brothel. About a month ago, the German bounty hunter had finally opened up to you about the horrors of his past, how his brother was killed, and why he turned to this way of life. After that, you had kissed, and it had been about time.

The kissing had led to you urging him to take you, that you wanted this, wanted nothing more than it. He was hesitant at first, trying to convince you you could do much better than him, you could find some wealthy businessman in the North to settle down with. You had expressed your desire for him and only him by unbuckling his pants in reply. You rode him by the fire, while he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and spoke German affections to you. You fall in love a little more each time King calls you his Fraulein, staring at you as if you're his world. He's a self professed romantic-- one of the kindest, most gentle men you've ever met.

That is, without a gun in his hand.

Needless to say, Django had been relieved to hear you two finally did something about whatever was raging between you; love, lust, admiration, the whole lot of it. Apparently, if he had to sit through another bowl of stew while watching you two share warm smiles and brush hands, he would have blown his brains out.

"A tad dramatic as usual, my friend?" King had asked, eyes widening. Django had simply shaken his head.

"Nah Schultz, I'd say I'm pretty dead on."

Tonight is the last night before you reach Candyland, the notorious slaver Calvin Candie's mansion. King and Django had struck up a deal with him a few nights prior, when you had been waiting with the transportation.

"You will stay here, and tend to the horses," King is telling you.

"I'm coming with you, and that's final," you shoot back.

"I wouldn't argue with her," Django puts his hands up, and King sighs.

"In normal circumstances, I would not! But you have to understand, (y/n)--"

"Oh, what? You don't think I can understand, because I'm a woman?" You immediately wish you hadn't said that, at the hurt that crosses your lover's face. That was unfair-- he had given you every chance a man would have received, and had been fully supportive of you ditching your dress for slacks. "I'm sorry," you murmur, and he takes you in his arms, holding your head to his chest.

"No no, there is no need to apologize, my darling, none at all. But please understand-- I cannot in good conscience let you put your life in danger."

"Doctor's got a point, sweet thing," Django shrugs, "This is my crusade, not yours. I'd feel bad if anything were to happen to you."

"Exactly," King nods, and you stare at both admittedly overprotective men.

"And what if something happens to _you_? I'm left behind to clean up the mess," you retort, and snuggle into King's arm. "Now that that's settled, I'm going to need a dress."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to pose as your daughter." King sputters.

"What?" 

"His daughter?" Django scoffs, "Ain't you two been fucking for what now, weeks?"

"Django my boy, don't be so crass," King grumbles, rubbing his temples, "But yes." 

"What's that thing you do with your tongue?" he asks.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I saw the shadows on the tent, looks good. I wanna try it on Hildy." 

"I see. Well that Django, is the art of making a lady feel every bit and more of what you do, a challenge shamefully few men dare to take on. The female body is an enigma, a work of art, a flower if you will, of which you must peel each soft petal back so that she may open up to you and bloom under your touch." 

"What the hell's that mean?"

"It means you use your mouth as you would your more obvious appendage." King's eyes suddenly widen. "Mein Gott, why are we discussing this?!" 

"Listen," you smirk, "it will make us seem like more of a family to Calvin if I'm going to pose as your daughter, who I hear appreciates the more traditional lifestyle. He is southern, they do appreciate a tight family." 

Django considers this. "Pretty smart."

"But... but you can't just-- we--!" King tries to protest, but you raise an eyebrow. He swallows. "Oh very well, it just might work. I will take you tomorrow to purchase a nice, southern style gown. Your choosing, of course."

You give him a kiss, and he presses one to your forehead with a proud little pat.

The next afternoon, after picking out a lovely soft lilac and white dress with dainty gloves, you accompany Django and King up to the doors of the large estate. All around you, you see slaves working the plantation, looking up to get a good view of Django. The sight of all those poor slaves makes you sick to your tightly bound stomach, and you can't wait to see this place burn after grabbing Broomhilda and running.

The three of you wait at the door, and King turns to admire you, brushing your hair aside. "You picked a lovely one," he comments. Your whalebone corset is tight around the middle and pushes up your bust, so the neckline of the dress does little to cover your breasts. You turn to see those crystal blue eyes staring into yours in adoration.

"Do I really look that good?" you ask softly, blushing. He sighs, heart aching for you.

"Breathtaking." The door swings open. It's a man with skin as dark as Django's and hair as white as the mansion, and he stares at you suspiciously.

"Calvin?" he calls behind him, "Calvin, come see!"    

"We're here to see Monsieur Candie," King smiles cordially, "About buying a Mandingo fighter? He's expecting us, sir."

"Sir?! I ain't no goddamn sir!"

"Very well then, what's your name?"

"And why in the hell you's got to know my's name?!"

"My good man, Calvin Candie is expecting us, won't you let a few weary travellers in?" More suspicious staring, mostly directed at Django, until he finally opens the door all the way. A man trots down the stairs.

You do a quick survey of him, as you learned to do when you worked in a brothel. He was on the shorter side, with a pointed beard and dark hair combed over. He wore a dark suit, held a thinly rolled cigar between his lips, and he looked about your age. There was something smarmy about him-- might just be that he was the fourth most renowned slave owner in Mississippi, but there was also something more than a little dark about him. His smile, in contrast, was cheery as the sun in the sky.

"Welcome, welcome! Stephen now, didn't I give you specific instructions to let these people in?"

"You did, you did Calvin, but they's looked suspicious, is all, calling me sir in some fancy far off accent--!"

"Hush now, get on. Dr. Shultz," Calvin shakes the hunter's hand, "Brightboy," he smirks in amusement at your friend, and then he comes to you, visibly taken. "Well bless my soul! And who is this lovely young thing here? I do not believe I've had the pleasure!"

"Monsieur Calvin Candie," King says, forcing a smile, "This young lady is..." he takes too long hemming and hawing, and Django nudges him inconspicuously. "--My daughter, (y/n) Schultz."

"Your daughter! Charmed," Calvin grins, taking your hand and kissing it. You try to hide a scowl with a giggle. "Aren't you just the belle of the ball? So a cutie like you must know a little German with a name your father shares." You feel your heart skip a beat in panic, and you look to your "father". He clears his throat.

"She gets shy sometimes, the gentle dove," he saves, and Calvin hums.

"I understand darlin', but there's no need to be shy around me." He takes your arm, and you swallow.

"I've heard so much about you," you feign, and Calvin winks.

"All bad things, I hope." King sighs softly to himself, trying to calm his mind. _We are here for a reason._

"Please! Come in," Calvin exclaims, and you all enter. Django approaches King as you and Calvin walk ahead.

"You good?" he asks quietly, looking around, "Candie talkin' to your lady like that?" King nods.

"I trust I will be, my friend." He gives Django a telling look, and Django smirks. You all head to the parlor, where Stephen is still lurking behind you and staring. King sits next to you on one seat, and Django sits to your left while Calvin takes a seat across from you.

"Well. I'm so glad you three could stay," he smiles, "Anyone I intend to do business with I always love to spoil with a little southern comfort." He gestures. "Can I interest you in some tasty Virginia tobacco?"  

Django accepts a cigar while you take a cigarette. King politely declines, being a former dentist. Calvin takes another cigar, and matches are passed around. As you inhale, you feel King's hand on the small of your back, rubbing slow circles. You smile at his gentle touch-- he just wants to ensure you're his to care for.

"I don't mean to be indecent in my affections, but what a becoming dress that is," Calvin comments. He seems to be fixated on you, and while you realize you can use your flirtatious nature to your benefit, it doesn't turn your stomach any less.

"Isn't it just?" King smiles, then realizes he was staring for too long to be considered normal for family. "Yes, her taste is just as impeccable as my wife's."

"Oh! Why did your wife not join us when your daughter did?" Calvin asks.

"Uh, _Mrs. Schultz_ finds such things frightfully dull," King says quickly, "Transactions like these and all."

"And your little missy here doesn't?"

"Oh no," you say, "It's quite exciting, really. Especially meeting gentlemen like you along the way."

Calvin chuckles. "What a woman. I'm looking for a fine lady like that myself."

"Are you?" King responds, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. Lover or daughter, he couldn't be blamed for it-- Calvin seems to get the message to back off, and Django nods in satisfaction at that.

That night at dinner, you had been put next to Calvin's irritating sister Lara Lee, with King and Django on the left side of you. Calvin sits at the head of the table. As you eat and discuss the deal, Lara Lee talks your ear off about your dress and how _her_ dress was tailor made, and you can see Django is getting restless, obviously thinking about Broomhilda. The plan was to stay the night, King requesting Broomhilda for some "southern comfort" while Django's hiding behind the door, then you broker a deal tomorrow morning to take Hildy with you and escape.

Oh yeah. Should go off without any hitches. 

All throughout dinner, you imagine King putting his hand on your thigh and touching you under the table, while you stare at his handsome profile and sexy trimmed beard. His middle age shows, but he's got a youthful, crisp look about him-- simply staring at him makes your pussy ache for attention. But true to his character and unfortunately for your pussy, he keeps his hands to himself. He may have poor self control when it comes to cruelty, but it was damn near unbreakable when it came to seduction.  

You tug on King's sleeve as he's finishing a sentence, and he pauses. "Forgive me-- yes, my liebchen?"

You lean into his ear, and set your hand on his thigh before whispering: _"Won't you just slide a couple of fingers into me and show me who I belong to?"_

He startles a little, placing a hand on his chest as he takes a long sip of his drink. Then he squeezes your hand in his before smirking and whispering back: _"Oh. That just wouldn't be polite, would it dear?"_ He presses a kiss to your temple, then turns back to Calvin. "Such a funny girl. Tells me she hasn't seen a house this big in her life!"

"That's not the only thing you'd be surprised at the size of," Calvin smirks your way. Calvin's sister coughs, Django drops his fork with a clatter, and King chokes a little. Django glares at Calvin as you put a hand on King's leg to restrain him. He speaks anyway.

"Listen to me right now, Mr. Candie. I appreciate that we are in your home and you have the liberty to say what you like at will, but I cannot say I am happy with it. I do not know what kind of idea you have in your head regarding (y/n), but she is not a whore to be sold off to you," the bounty hunter begins to rant, and you take a deep breath. This was building up to be a good speech.

"You can't speak to Mon-ser Calvin like that in his own home!" Stephen snaps, hobbling forward and waving his cane around, "I'll--"

"You'll do nothing and like it, Stephen," Calvin hisses, and swallows as King continues.

"As I was saying, she is a respectable, _virginal_ young woman who is here only to observe the business transactions we are making, not to lose her carefully preserved innocence to you, or any other man in this room. She is very close to me, and is not a part of this deal!" The murderous look in his eyes dissipates, and that pleasant, impish smile of his returns. "Guten?"

Calvin blinks, and beckons Mogi to lean in. _"What does guten mean?"_

_"Good, I think."_

_"Ah."_ Calvin turns back, and nods slowly. "Good, then. No offense intended, sir."  

"Splendid."

Calvin clears his throat awkwardly, lifting his chin. "Would you care for some more brandy, doctor?"

"Now that you mention it, I am a little thirsty," King smiles good naturedly, determined to drink away his jealousy.  

That night, you had been left alone in your second floor bedchambers. They were huge, with fluffy silk sheets, and you just felt like collapsing into them. As you begin to slip out of your dress and untie the bodice, there's a light rap on the door. Your body seizes up, and you wait with baited breath. After a few seconds, the knock sounds again, and you clutch your chest. Your hand trembles as you creep over to it.

"Who is it?" you ask breathlessly. Was it Stephen, snooping around? Was it Calvin himself, come to pay you a visit and teach you a lesson for King's disrespect?

"It's just me, your loving papa," King whispers, and you relax immediately, cracking the door. You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, and shove him in.

"You!" you hiss, and he waits with a grimace for you to rightfully chastise him. "What are you doing here?"

"Django and Broomhilda are, eh... reacquainting. I thought I would give them some space."

" _You_ could've gotten us all thrown out, or killed tonight! The entire plan would have been blown, Django never would have seen Broomhilda again. What were you thinking talking to Calvin Candie like that?!"

"I know, I _know_ my dear, I just couldn't resist."

"And _virginal_?! Pff!"

He smirks, pleased with himself at the inventive way of describing you today. "A white lie hurts nobody," he says, and his smile fades. "(y/n), the way he was looking at you like an animal, talking to you... like he wanted to defile you." He places a kiss to your cheek, waving his hand passionately. "You are simply not meant to be defiled."

"No?" you hum, laying back onto the bed and spreading your legs a little. "What, then?"

King's eyes drop down to gaze between your legs, and as if admiring fine art, he lets out an irreverent sigh. "You were meant to be worshipped." You bite your lip, ruffling your dress up inch by inch. His accent is driving you up the walls, as it always does. But he looks so good tonight... so put together. King pulls at his collar as he sees the intensity of your gaze. "Before we get up to any trouble we shouldn't, I'll bid you guten nacht. See you in the morning, Fraulein."

"You didn't just come in for a kiss goodnight, daddy," you stand, walking back over to him. You begin to unlace the bodice now, letting it fall from your breasts. You expose them so that all you have on now are your skirts, and rub your breasts against Schultz' white button up, making him moan softly.

"You are tempting me," he warns, and you bite his earlobe.

"You've been tempted all afternoon, watching Calvin flirt with me."

He eyes you, and looks down to your lips. "He's going to propose you stay here."

"Is he now?"

"I can feel it."

"How could he fall so quickly? He just... mm, met me."

"You have that effect on people," King whispers gently, stroking your face, "Remember the brothel?"

"That was impulsive," you whisper.

"I'm an impulsive man and I just can't help myself, you know this," King rasps, and you buck against him, pouting.

"I miss your hands on me. Please, please touch me King." Schultz exhales as you bring a hand down to rub the already-evident bulge in his trousers. "Mmm... I can see you've come prepared."

He shakes his head, smiling down at you fondly. "You silver tongued devil you." He puts a hand on your back and draws you in for a kiss, his beard pleasantly tickling your face. The kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth, caressing your lips and your tongue. His hands move down your smooth, naked back to untie your skirts almost desperately, letting them fall in a pool around your feet as he walks you back from the bed. Once there, he encourages you to lift your arms.

"I must admit, I wanted nothing more than to do this all day," he says against your lips, "But a gentleman does not divulge such things in public." He moves downward, parting your legs. He then presses a reverent kiss to your clit, and his tongue takes a sweep of your folds, making you quiver as his beard scratches the soft skin of your thighs. 

"Yes, I've noticed your gentlemanly silence," you huff, "You barely even talked to me, let alone laid a hand on me all day. I was desperate." He moves off of your pussy as you moan, and licks his lips. 

"I know, my dear, you were so good for me. Did it make you tingle?" King asks, removing his belt, "Thinking about me, how angry I was hearing Calvin say those things to you?"

"Fuck," you gasp, "Oh, yes." King takes your wrists, and binds them together to the headboard.

"You were driving me crazy in that dress... Candie's advances only made my lust for you worse, (y/n)." He trails his lips up your neck. "I haven't had you since that night."  

"Two weeks ago," you moan, and King hums.

"Exactly, my dear. Far too long."

You blink up at your older lover. "Please take me?"

"Well..." he gives you an affectionate smile, "I have no choice but to oblige my lady love when she asks as nicely as that." He slides his suspenders down, and takes his pants off, positioning himself over top of you and thrusting in. You groan his name, but he keeps a gentle hand over your lips to keep you quiet as his silver hair falls into his eyes. Your hands shake against the belt, but you love how uncharacteristically possessive King is being-- it turns you on beyond belief. Your moans remain loud though as the bounty hunter's cock fills you over and over again, satisfying your need for him as your noises blend together into the creak, groan, gasp of making love.

Just down the hall, Calvin rouses in his bed. He'd been tossing and turning over Stephen's cautions earlier that the three visitors hadn't arrived with pure intentions, but this had jolted him from those grievances. He's sure he hears noises, and they're not far away. He _had_ sent Broomhilda into the doctor's room earlier, so maybe they were just noisy lovers... but the doctor's room was a floor down, wasn't it?

He gets up, and puts on his housecoat before opening the door. Walking down the hall, he comes to press his ear to your bedroom door, where the sounds were coming from.

_"Ohhh... oh, fuck.... oh, yes-- please, you're all I've ever wanted-- fuck me, like that, there, oh, show me I'm yours!"_

Calvin smirks devilishly. Well, he'll be damned. _Of course the saucy little minx wasn't as innocent as she let on._ You wanted him. He saw the way you made eyes at him all dinner, to hell with what Schultz was on about. Calvin listened in on you pleasuring yourself some more, imagining what he could do to that pretty little mouth. You were begging for a man, begging to be taken by one, and he could definitely oblige. After all, as much as they like to abstain for image, every lady could do well with a good pounding every now and then. As well, you were in his mansion-- you were fair game, making noises like that; it could be your little secret. He goes to open the door, slicking back his hair... then hears another voice.

_"Oh, Fraulein, you are spectacular, just like that... yes, take me in, my dear, like a good girl..."_

Calvin stops dead, frowning in alarm. Was that...? No. It couldn't be Doctor Schultz. _Her..._ Calvin suddenly began to unravel the plot, as if it was smacking him in the face. _They're not related. That was a ruse. They're helping Django get his woman, just like Stephen said. Son of a bitch! They're damn fucking lovers!_

Calvin Candie had been fooled, and he did not take lightly to being made a fool of.  

* * *

"Good morning," the blonde slaver smiles at you as you all head into the dining room for breakfast, "How did we all sleep?"

"Wonderfully, just wonderfully," King says, "You have a very comfortable home, absolutely lovely."

"Comfortable beds," you say, and quickly add: "It's just, we've been riding for so long, staying in dingy little taverns. It was nice to lay my head on something soft."

"Mmm," Calvin smiles sweetly at you, and you start to notice how he's white knuckling his glass. "And you Django? How was your sleep?"

"Good," Django nods, "Like (y/n) said, you got nice beds."

"And I'm sure you made good use of them," Calvin nods, and at everyone's tense silence, he just chuckles. "I mean, of course, by sleeping in them!" The tension diffuses, and Calvin has Cora pour some sweet tea for everyone. He takes a long sip, and lights a cigar. He then turns to his sister, telling her to go out and check on the fields. 

"There is... one thing, I want to bring up before we make this deal and you, your daughter, and your apprentice are on your merry way," Calvin says to King, who nods obligingly.

"Please, anything," King invites, smoothing out his mustache. Calvin bats his eyelashes, and clears his throat.

"It's complicated, doc. Last night," he begins, and your heart beat increases. "--I was just... oh, happening down the hallway, you see..."

Django's hand crawls to his holster, and you take King's arm under the table. He squeezes your hand to encourage you to stay calm, and Candie's smile widens. "Well, you see, what I heard was troubling to say the least." Django starts to cock his pistol, and you reach your hand around to King's holster as well, lingering over the gun.

"Oh? And..." King attempts a weak laugh, "What did you hear that troubled you so?"

"What did I hear?" Calvin muses, taking a deep, thoughtful drag on his cigar, "Hm. What... did I hear? Well... let me put it this way. Here in the south, we don't mind a little sugar in the pot. But daddy and daughter? Now, that's a bit far I'd say."

You whip King's gun out and stand, but Calvin shoots you in the arm faster than you can register. "BULLSEYE!" he screams manically, frightening everyone in the room.

Aching pain spreads, and you look down at your white dress to see the blood blossoming. King immediately falls to the floor with you, nursing your arm and holding you, while Django stands, beckoning Broomhilda over to him. Calvin tries to make a grab for her, but Django's too fast. Even with a gun to Candie though, he's got every other gun in the room on him and on you and Schultz.

"Now let's not be hasty here!" Calvin shouts with a bloodthirsty grin, "Let's answer a few little questions first, cause my curiosity, gentlemen, has returned."

King holds you as he whips back to Calvin. "You vile, heartless creature! You would rather shoot her than lose her?!"

"No," Calvin licks his lips with a vengeful sneer, "I don't give a good god damn about the bitch. I just like watching you lose her."

"He won't lose her," Django steps forward desperately, watching you bleed as tears gather in his eyes, "She needs a doctor!"

"I believe she's got one," Calvin nods, and King's tears fall on you as you stare up blearily. "What did you say you practice again? Dentistry? Well... that's a shame. Won't help that girl of yours, will it?" He starts to cackle, along with everyone in the room. "I should've bent her over and fucked her silly while I had the chance! Maybe then she would've known her place." 

King stands, grabs his gun, and shoots Calvin straight in the chest. Silence befalls the room, until Broomhilda grabs Django, King, and you, and you all run. You try to hold your arm as more blood gushes, and more bullets whiz past you as you all escape. King gets his sleeve shredded, Django gets his hat blown off, and Broomhilda narrowly misses getting her eye shot out. The horses are watered and waiting thankfully, and the last thing you hear is Stephen cursing you out as you ride.

"You're going to be alright, my dear," King swallows, "We'll be in town very soon. It was all my fault, I'm so sorry. I should have had more self control last night, I should have known he'd hear, I don't know what I was..."

"Hey," you cut in, blinking hazily, "It was worth it. Really."

Django shakes his head at you, laughing as his wife clutches tighter to his middle. "She never does stop, does she?"  

King smiles a little, and moves your hair out of your face to place a soft kiss to your lips. "I wouldn't have my love any other way."  


End file.
